


Into The Fire

by sunshinestealer



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinestealer/pseuds/sunshinestealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So… I’ve been in X-Men Evolution hell since last year, and thought to write up a fic about how Magneto recruited Todd for the Brotherhood in the first place. Since it’s never really explained and hey, why not write a fic about it? So this is that fic. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Fire

He’d done it. He’d survived his first winter in New York City whilst living on the streets. Tourists flocked to New York during Christmas; easy pickings for somebody with a talent for petty thievery. Todd was still too much of a coward to use the knife he kept on his person, however. Nor was he one for threats of violence -- just carefully and casually slipping wallets out of pockets, purses out of bags, pocketing the cash and dumping the leather remains onto the sidewalk.

The homeless tended to stick together. Especially those who shunned the shelters like himself. A shelter meant some goody two shoes looking into his background, and then discovering his runaway status. Then the cops and his social worker showing up to drag him right back to the group home where he’d been regarded as nothing but a disgusting nuisance. Society didn’t want him, and he didn’t want society to take him back into the fold. No matter how warm it might seem during blizzard-time.

He had gone on to a computer at the New York Public Library once, just to look up how long missing persons reports lasted for. He’d even walked right past the building where he used to live, giving it a middle finger salute and then ducking and hiding to hope nobody had caught sight of him out of the windows.

It had been a full five months now, since he’d hopped out of that door and never looked back.

Todd had always wondered why he was punished in this way -- what the _hell_ did the world have against him to make his life so bad? There was the abusive, deranged mother who had attempted to drown him in the bathtub, hoping to make it look like an accident. (His earliest memory, in fact.) There were the teachers who he’d tried to trust with what was going on at home, only to be told he was a stupid liar, the school welfare board choosing to look past the bruises and stunted social development. The guilty social workers who had realised the abuse only after Todd had been living in their ramshackle house on his own for nearly three months, expecting his mother to come back any day. The educational psychiatrist whose job it was to stop him making up lies, and come up with myriad learning disorders to explain why he wasn’t churning out the academic grades expected by the system. And finally, there were the other children who had made his life a living hell since he was six, with ritual humiliations, beatings and hateful diatribes directed at the very thing in life he couldn’t help -- his appearance.

Okay, puberty had evened out some of the unusual features he had, but he still had puffy, sagging cheeks, eyes that naturally narrowed, a heavily furrowed brow and a hunched-over body. The stink he naturally emitted didn’t particularly help, and he’d stopped bothering to wash. Not that being homeless afforded one much opportunity to scrub off days and weeks of sweat and dirt.

It was now April in the city, and Todd gathered up his backpack and sauntered around the perimeter of Central Park. Tourist central, as displayed by the artists, the T-shirt vendors and other people hawking their wares. Todd knew a few of them, at least, the less judgmental sorts, and had even gotten a job with some of them. Cash under the table, back when he’d tried to remain optimistic about his situation and refused to steal. (That demeanour had lasted around a week, up until he gave pickpocketing a try and wound up with three days’ wages in one fell swoop.)

A lifetime spent in New York meant that Todd had developed quite the keen eye and ear for who was a native and who wasn’t. Of course, anybody who walked slower than a sloth dipped in molasses was a tourist. As was a target who took taxi cabs everywhere. The stops where people waited for tour buses around the city were good places to pickpocket, for example. Some shops in New York had a trap door, where stolen goods could be sold off for cheap and then hawked for their full retail cost. Todd had a good deal with one such shop down near Lexington Avenue, hiding in plain sight amongst all the opulence surrounding it.

Hustling required quite some creativity; none of the criminals that Todd had learned from these past few months were stupid. Some had gotten a hold of police uniforms, forged badges… It may have been that they were staying on the streets to lay low, but they had a decent enough cash pot hiding around somewhere.

Todd sniffed, and then decided to wander around Central Park for a few hours to kill time and see if there were a few tourists he could swindle. Plus, there was always the prospect of hunting for food. He licked his lips and entered in through one of the side gates at 59th, walking until he found himself close by one of the old playgrounds and some shaded little area for playing chess.

There was an old man there already, sitting under the pergola with a small book in hand. He had silver hair and a long, wrinkled face that had clearly seen much out of life.

Todd weighed up his options - targets who were sitting down usually figured out they were being stolen from in record time.

But then the man lowered his book and looked up at him. Right at him. Todd felt some kind of twinge, especially when he saw the steel grey of the stranger’s eyes. It was almost as if they were looking right into his soul.

He gestured, to the seat opposite him.

Todd’s response as a New Yorker should have been to keep on walking, ignoring this overly-friendly, likely foreign weirdo. But there was something that Todd could just _sense_. The man was not like any other old fellow who wiled away their retirement days playing board games and reading in the park. No, there was… well, something Todd couldn’t quite put his finger on…

Almost as if his mind went on autopilot, Todd walked over to the man, sitting down in the chair. With just a look alone, the older man had gotten him to come on over. If his charisma was that good non-verbally, Todd struggled to imagine what it would be like when he began speaking.

“Do you know how to play?” He asked, in a deep, smooth voice.

“Nah,” Todd replied, feeling uncomfortable with the eye contact. It almost felt as if the man was carefully and clinically analysing his features. “Never learned how.”

“Thankfully for you, I am a patient man,” he said, eyes darting quickly from Todd’s just to check that the chess pieces were all in perfect alignment so they could start their game. “I must say, it took quite an effort to find you.”

His heart raced. “What was that?” Todd stammered. Was this some kind of new undercover cop? Why was this harmless-looking old man saying something like this? Was he just sitting in Central Park for the past few hours, hoping that Todd would walk by? What was the point in that?

Todd could already tell that he’d gone pale. Poisonous sweat had started to leak from his palms, which he clenched as he tried to take a few breaths in and out.

“Todd Tolansky,” the older man intoned, raising an eyebrow. “Though previously known as Mort…”

“Yeah, yeah, no need for that,” Todd snapped suddenly. Who the hell did this guy think he was, digging up the past like that? Maybe it was just a name, but Todd’s temper flared up and he just about stood, slamming his hands on the edge of the chess table. Some of the pieces rattled or toppled over. “...Just how much do you know about me, anyway?”

“I know your name.” The older man said. “I know that you have been living on the streets of this city for the past few months. And I know that you are quite… gifted.”

Now there was a word that had never been applied to Todd.

“You got the wrong guy. I dropped outta school. Gonna get my GED later. Plenty of people do that.”

“You’ve been out of school for precisely five months. There’s always time to catch up, with a new start elsewhere.”

Todd’s temper suddenly flared, and he stood up.

“Calm down,” the man suddenly commanded, voice like steel. “Get back into your seat. I am here to offer you a job.”

Begrudgingly, Todd got back into his chair. He raised an eyebrow at the man’s job offer, but gave him a look to continue. This was suspicious. Real suspicious. One more reveal about his past slipped into conversation and he was ready to hop on out of there, lay as low as humanly possible and hope he never ran back into this old creep.

“You ain’t with social services or the po-po?”

“No, I am not. I can make both the former and the latter look away from your case, if you so require.” His words held an odd sort of promise to them. “When I say you are gifted, Todd, I do not mean scholastically.” (Todd’s lip curled angrily.) “No offence intended. The definition I mean is… well, you shall see for yourself.”

The old man placed his hand just above the metal chess pieces. Perhaps it was a little theatrical, but it served its purpose. The chess pieces began to move around, gliding from tile to tile, jumping over each other, shifting to the side of the board as they were captured, and finally, placed in check.

Todd’s mouth was agape. He’d seen plenty of magicians around the Park and around Times Square, but it was all sleight of hand and illusion, right? But the strange aura exuded by this man, and the almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere… Maybe that was the magnetic field, or something? Todd wasn’t so sure. But he knew he had to talk to this man further, remaining planted to his seat.

This was what he meant by gifted? Having the abilities and appearance that caused other people to ostracise you? Didn’t seem like much of a ‘gift’.

Todd found himself a little speechless. That was, until he vaguely stammered out: “H-how did you know my name? And everything else about me?”

“I followed the paper trail, and when that went cold, I followed your last known whereabouts, and investigated the homeless populations around the city until I found you. I must say, I have done the job better than social services or even the police’s missing persons department.” He said it so smoothly, lowering the hand that was hovering over the chess pieces.

That stung. Well, it wasn’t like Todd _wanted_ to be found, but the older man’s tone seemed to insinuate that they weren’t even bothering with him.

Not that he cared. Much.

“Okay… So what’s yer name and what do you mean by ‘gifted’?”

“You may call me Magneto.” (Todd scoffed, but then quickly changed to a more neutral expression when the man’s eyes narrowed fearsomely.) “Surely you have noticed the certain abilities that you possess.”

“Yeah.” Todd shrugged. “They ain’t nothing special.” It wasn't his fault that he secreted an adhesive mucus, or that his physiology made frog-hopping easier and faster than walking. People tended to be grossed out by the long, sticky insect-catching tongue, though. Not that he cared, and he’d been used to eating insects since he was a child. When there was no longer any food in the fridge or cupboards after his mother had abandoned him, he’d swallowed down that visceral human disgust at eating insects, and taken to eating the roaches, ants and crickets that crept into their home in an overgrown, dirt poor Queens neighbourhood with mainly abandoned tenement houses as their neighbours. Plus, it was extra protein. Something sorely needed while living out on the streets.

“Believe me,” Magneto said, taking on a slightly kinder tone. “They are. Tolansky, you are a mutant.”

“A what now? You mean some kinda freak?”

“‘Freak’ is a word that humankind use to oppress those that differ from the norm.”

“Or just, y’know, point out that somebody looks kinda freaky.” He folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “I ain’t winning any beauty contests any time soon. I know that. Is that part of the ‘mutant’ business?” He asked, with air quotes.

“For some of us, the mutation - or X-gene - alters our physical appearance, or mental acuity, so that we can use our powers in the best way possible. Even if it does take time to learn how to manipulate them.”

“Uh huh. I’ve learned more than enough.”

“You have,” Magneto conceded. “I saw you leap up almost twenty feet into a tree in this very part of the park. You were selling watches, I believe.”

Todd cast his mind back. That had only been about a week ago, and he had been running an errand for the crook in Lexington Avenue who owned the stolen goods place. There had been a tip about a police raid, and they needed to get rid of the fake Rolexes fast. Todd had sold a few to the most naïve tourists as the day went by, but it was generally easier to steal a _real_ Rolex off some rich guy’s wrist and replace it with the fake. (A risky venture. Pickpocketing was easy but stealing and replacing a watch within the blink of an eye? He’d only gotten two watches this way before catching somebody informing a nearby cop, and he had to book it out of there as fast as he could. Come to think of it, he _was_ around this area at the time...)

Cops in the city generally followed up on cases of stolen property or some bag-snatcher at large. Those that worked within Central Park… well, tended to let things slide. Todd was less afraid of them, and had been back in the area within a few days, just ducking his head if he ever walked past.

“Yeah… I was there, ‘round that time,” he shrugged. “You sure you not some undercover cop, man?”

Magneto tutted and shook his head. “Like I said, along with the inhuman leaping ability, you possess an array of other abilities.”

“Bein’ double-jointed ain’t a mutation, is it?”

“To geneticists, it is.” Magneto said simply. “I can imagine that such a physiological quirk is useful for your set of powers. Less strain on your joints, for example.”

The more Magneto spoke, the more Todd felt… well, at ease. He’d watched the odd medical drama with his mother as a child, where somebody would cry with relief at the doctor’s diagnosis of some rare condition that perfectly explained their chronic ailments. He imagined he was the patient right now, finally being told that yes, while he himself _knew_ that he was different, that something was wrong with him compared to the rest of humanity, there was finally some explanation for why he was different.

“So. I’m a mutant. I got powers.”

“Clearly. Therefore, you harbour the X-gene, and you are part of a new wave of evolution. It is our prerogative to take revenge against humanity, don’t you think?”

Todd just shrugged at that. “I dunno? Maybe?”

“Like I said before, I can offer you a job, with accommodation, an allowance, and a fresh new start elsewhere.”

“Where we talkin’?” Todd asked, inspecting under his nails. “I been living here since I was born.”

“Clearly,” Magneto said, taking note of the accent that seemed to wander through all five boroughs, but with a slightly thicker Bronx inflection, to make Todd sound tougher than he actually was. Deep down, the boy was still a child and a coward - and not suited to long-term combat, especially if he was constantly thrown into the battle as cannon fodder. He looked like the kind of person who had been beaten up plenty of times, and never even thought to fight back. Magneto knew that he would have to spend some time with Todd, blocking his nose and filling the young mutant’s head with ideas of glory and purpose. Perhaps while arranging for the move to Bayville, near enough to Salem Center. “How would you feel about moving to Westchester County?”

“Ain’t that where all the richies live? Like Donald Trump?”

Magneto nodded. “And a group of other mutants who are… shall we say, _rivals_ to our cause. I will explain in due course.”

So, just an hour up north from the city? That wasn’t too bad. Todd still strangely felt compelled to follow this man, as Magneto rose from his chair and extended a hand to him.

“Come with me. As a native, I am sure you know the best places for breakfast.”

Todd just scoffed and rolled his pale yellow eyes. He took the hand, however, still too curious about what the man was talking about. Mutants? New evolution of mankind? He wanted _Todd_ in particular to carry out a job for him? With all those perks? He clearly wasn’t your garden variety crazy, or some representative who tried to sweet-talk the homeless into their religion or rehabilitation programme.

He followed, wondering if he could just rush this guy and steal whatever valuables were on his person. Didn’t seem like a particularly good idea, and if he _wanted_ to find out what Magneto’s deal was, he’d have to keep his sticky hands to himself.

 

* * *

 

Of course, Todd had no clue whatsoever as to where somebody could get a decent meal in the city. He hunted small woodland creatures and insects when he could, or he dug through trash cans late at night for leftover drunk food. He’d done a few dine and dashes as well over the past few months, but only because of the blizzard that had swept through in January and left him with no other option than to starve. Soup was always an option, visiting different religious centres around Manhattan so no well-wisher would notice that he came there often enough to put him in touch with the nearest homeless shelter.

Magneto had warmly said that he didn’t mind what restaurant or diner Todd chose, in terms of quality or expense. He finally took a turn down through Hell’s Kitchen, choosing a cheap and cheerful-looking diner. Probably not to the older man’s tastes, but likely the kind of place that wouldn’t mind his stench and general presence. The only other person there was some East Village hipster-looking type, tapping away at the kind of fancy laptop Todd knew he could make a huge profit on if he took it to the broker at Lexington.

They found a booth, and Todd ignored the waitress’ contemptuous look as she poured them coffee. He pretended to read the menu, squiggly and jumpy as the letters were to him, and strummed his fingers against the cheap Formica table.

“...So.” He finally said to break the silence. “Why Westchester?”

Magneto cleared his throat after his first sip of coffee. Cheap diner crap, really. No flavour to it, just an ashy aftertaste that stuck on your tongue and throat. “Westchester County is currently home to one of the only institutions in the world for gifted youngsters such as yourself. They are taught to develop their powers and even allowed to go out on missions to perform acts of heroism.”

“How many students they got?”

“Only a small handful. The Institute is run by Charles Xavier, a man who only values the mutants who would be of potential use to him. Those with the kinds of superhuman powers spoken of in science fiction or fantasy. Those who could be utilised most ably as weapons. While your gifts are indeed useful, Todd, Xavier is much more selective in his approach to gathering mutants for his ‘X-Men’. Whereas I am willing to welcome you with open arms.”

“So this Xavier guy gets the cream of the crop, and you’re left with the useless dregs.” Todd said, frowning.

“You are not useless, Todd. It is more a failing of Xavier that he can only find use out of certain _types_ of mutants, and thus invites them to live and train at this Institute. Never let anybody view you as a failure, or any less of an asset due to the circumstances of your birth.”

“Nice quote, did you steal it offa some T-shirt?” He bit his tongue slightly, realising it probably wasn’t a great idea to insult the man who was offering him work and a place to stay in a fairly upmarket part of the state. “‘Scuse me.”

Magneto’s tone and demeanour remained amiable. “I realise, looking through your records, that you have not had the best start in life.”

“You can say that again,” Todd said, somewhat bitterly. Abused, bullied, ostracised, out on the streets, fending for himself, sleeping under bridges and in alleyways, cooking pigeons over a burning barrel and starving during the winter when he couldn’t hunt. But still, being homeless was better than being  _in_ a home, from his experience. He could work with just a place to stay, a base of operations while he carried out jobs for Magneto.

“Consider my offer. I can give you a better life if you pledge to work for me.”

Todd sneered at the condescending waitress when she wandered over, hoping to take their food orders. Magneto just waved her away.

“So then… what kinda work we talking?”

He clucked his tongue and lowered his voice. “Whatever I request of you. Spying, combat, infiltration... All I hope for is your continued loyalty and hopefully, success in bringing forth new information on the X-Men, or maybe, some day, fully defeating them.”

That seemed a bit too much of a tall order. Todd frowned. “You want _me_ to go up against the guy with the best mutants in the world and kick their asses.”

“No, no,” Magneto said. “Not on your own. I am assembling a… Brotherhood, of sorts. Mutants I deem worthy of going up against Xavier.”

“Team effort, then? That’s not so bad.”

“I will not tolerate failure.” He said suddenly, his voice sharp.

Todd’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, man. Relax. I’m not that bad at what I do. Just kinda… I mean..." He coughed, trying to fight the stammer in his voice. "Anyway. Gonna need some time to think things over. Get used to things, ya know?” He felt very awkward all of a sudden. The older man had been so charismatic just a few moments again. Was it something he did or said? He was never sure, especially since the people in his past used to go from tolerant to hostile for no damn reason.

“I am aware,” Magneto replied, a lot more evenly. It was better, in his experience, to remain charismatic and cordial, with the occasional threat or warning peppered in to keep the person on their toes. While Todd mused, he ordered another round of coffee from the waitress, and some pancakes and bacon for Todd. “I’m paying,” he insisted, despite the boy’s protests.

Truthfully, Todd’s money was sewn into his backpack, and he tended to prefer accumulating it rather than spending it. He had rolls of hundred dollar bills hidden away in the seams, but you had to be careful with your generosity if you wound up with too much money. His first backpack had been stolen by the very same guy he’d given a few bucks towards a bag of hash.

While he was by no means rich, Todd knew he wouldn’t have anywhere near this kind of income as a child at the group home. He’d probably get some pitiful allowance and money for school lunch, but nothing like what he was earning through stealing and hustling around the city.

When he asked about payment, Magneto was quick to reassure him about the monthly stipend to be shared amongst the Brotherhood that could be increased for positive results. Todd considered the proposal, and the older man continued. “I am aware that it is a lot to take in. But, moving to Bayville may be the best decision you have made in your short life thus far.”

“That’s what the town’s called? Bayville?” Todd had no clue of much of the geography outside of the city - but upstate New York, even an hour away, was pretty rich pickings. Petty larceny and burglarising the homes of the fools who forgot to lock their doors and windows had been his day job for so long now. Would Magneto begrudge him earning a few bucks on the side? Especially from the humans who had oppressed mutant-kind for generations?

He shrugged and looked Magneto in the eyes. Eye contact had always felt a little strange and scrutinising to him, and one could tell with the older man that something dark and powerful lurked somewhere beyond that penetrative gaze.

“I, er… Okay. I’ll join your Brotherhood.” Todd said, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he probably could have taken more time to consider. “Just… get me new paperwork, new school, all that. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He didn’t mean to sound quite so obsequious as his tone suggested - but springtime was slim pickings for thievery in the city. Hopefully by the time summer vacation rolled around, Todd would be able to go back down to Manhattan and make a fortune scamming or stealing from tourists.

“School?” Magneto asked. “Bayville has a high school, which the Xavier Institute pupils are streamlined into, you know. I was going to suggest you continuing your plans to… what was it, get your GED elsewhere?”

“May as well get it in some new place. I dunno.”

The waitress chose this moment to saunter by, slipping the plate of pancakes and bacon onto the table without so much as a glance or a word to Todd or Magneto. He scoffed and threw a middle finger towards her back.

“Your anger towards humankind can be channelled through making enough of a ruckus that humans are brought to task for the oppression they have inflicted upon us. They are stupid, pitiful creatures who fear what they do not know.”

“Uh… yeah,” Todd conceded, waiting for the food to cool down a little so he didn’t burn his tongue. The bacon was charred to bits. Another star off this diner’s rating.

But as Magneto spoke more and more of the terrible fates suffered by mutants around the world (killed, lynched, kidnapped by nefarious governments, subjected to scientific experimentation, forcibly ‘cured’, and many more horrible fates), Todd grimaced. He nodded every now and again to show his interest to Magneto, but these traumatic things he was being told were doing nothing but bringing up the itch of bad memories. He was hardly the type of person to forgive and forget, or simply leave the past in the past, but he knew it wasn’t healthy to dwell on these things. Especially when they did nothing but flare up his temper when he thought about them. He’d learned the hard way, early in life, that nothing was fair. Adults and children alike despised his existence, and absolutely nobody in this world could be trusted.

Well. He was putting his trust into Magneto right now, wasn’t he? It was hard not to, thanks to the man’s charisma, and just something else about him that set Todd at ease. Maybe it was the fact that he was a mutant too, he knew what it was like to face up against the worst of humanity. Not that he’d really told Todd anything about his background, but…

Magneto took some money out of his wallet and pressed it down onto the table, with no tip included. “We can leave as soon as possible.”

Nice. Presumably the guy was going to pay for a taxi ride up to Westchester. Todd didn’t really have any belongings to pick up, except what he’d stuffed into his backpack that morning. He walked with Magneto, waiting _just_ until the waitress turned around… and then extended his tongue, coiling the bacon and pancakes into it and pulling them back into his mouth, making the plate smash on the tiled floor with all the commotion. If it was possible for her to look even more disgusted with him, then she achieved it. He flipped her the bird and walked out after Magneto.

“No need for that behaviour, Todd.” Magneto reminded him in the doorway, but it wasn’t in a scolding tone.

Todd chewed and swallowed his meal, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “Aight. Just showin’ ‘em humans what I think of them.”

Magneto exhaled through his nose in amusement. "You learn quickly."

"Yeah, I do."


End file.
